


Colors of Him

by elysichor



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Colors, M/M, Metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysichor/pseuds/elysichor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stages of Steve's life told through metaphors of color.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colors of Him

Red is the blood on his face and in his mouth, the rusty metallic tang shocking his senses the way the fist shocks his body. His anger is deep, dark maroon, blending and bleeding to white-hot rage and shame that crimsons his face. When another boy steps in, his indignity at being defended is firetruck red. In the end, he still accepts the hand that pulls him up.

When they go to the boardwalk, the stalls are white and obnoxiously orange. It’s the creamsicle color of the soda he throws up after one too many rides on the cyclone, with Bucky’s laugh making it all okay again. The sunset as they walk home burns firebright, just like the flame born in Steve’s chest as Bucky’s arm circles his shoulders and makes him warm.

Bucky is his bright, happy yellow. His smile is the sun and his touch is a starburst of light that leaves Steve for hours with a golden glow in his chest. He can see the stars in the daylight, reflecting Bucky’s eyes. Then the girl on Bucky’s arm has lemon-yellow hair, and Steve’s stars start to fall.

Green is the way it hurts, the way it _burns_ , to watch Bucky with girl after girl and turning his eyes away from Steve for the first time. He hopes between each date, each dance, each kiss, that maybe this is his chance…but then her eyes are emerald and Bucky’s on his way to Oz. Steve’s mind paints her skin green, but then none of it matters, because Bucky’s uniform is deep olive and he feels a whole new kind of envy.

The serum they infuse him with is bright turquoise, unnatural and chemical and wonderful. His azure eyes can see things more clearly, more brightly than they could before, and it seems the sky’s the limit until they stick him on a stage. His costume is bright sapphire but he feels simply blue.

Darker and darker until the blue turns indigo. Bucky’s jacket is the only part of him he can see through the snow, hurtling down towards the earth. A dark turmoil in his mind screams at him to let go while his coward body clings to life. He turns to the blue-black of eyes closed rather than face a world without sunshine.

Purple is the wine in his glass that refuses to drug him. It’s the bags under his eyes that record how little he’s slept and how much he’s cried. The award they give Bucky (but hand to him, Steve) is deep violet, and if he had any energy he’d have laughed at the coincidence of its shape. Purple is the mix of sadness and anger as he fights. The color of the bruises on his face. When the plane hits the water, it’s tinged in the sunset.

Steve wakes up in a bright, vibrant, monochrome world.

He's still a soldier. He still fights, but nothing looks how it used to. Nothing _feels_ how it used to.  The man with the metal arm is only the next in a long line of people he'll put in their place because it's his job, not because he feels any obligation to anymore.

He's fighting hard, trying so damn hard to subdue the attacker, disarm him, anything. He swings him and hits him in the face once. Twice.  Sends him tumbling across the ground.

When the mask is ripped away, he sees a rainbow.


End file.
